Something Tangible
by Guaua
Summary: Jareth was bored. Dead bored. He needed something to do that was outside his kingdom, away from his minions. And so he decided to see just how Sarah was coping, after all these years... J/S
1. Chapter One: Crystal Memories

A/N I'm uninspired to work on "Mirror Focus" at the moment, because of a few problems I've had… namely with creating a new character, and losing a reader due to a misread statement. Little note. If you're going to abandon or flame me, please tell me so on an account or at least leave me an e-mail address so I can explain myself if need be? I hate losing readers (especially ones who review) due to MISTAKES.

So I'm all emo now, at least when it comes to "Mirror Focus". And I got sick. And how do you get out of depressions? You do creative stuff. And what do you write if creative stuff was the _cause_ of your depression? You do… different… creative stuff. So I decided to become a mindless J/S drone and write mindless fluff. Because I needed the practice writing emotions anyways. Actually, I think this is the first time I've tried writing fluff too, so I get practice in more then one thing… yaaaaaaaaaaay… -sarcastic glee-

R/R and please no anonymous reviews if they're burns/flames/I hate yous so that I can at least TRY TO EXPLAIN. Thank you.

I d not own Labyrinth. If I did, I'm sure I would have directed one of the helping hands to accidentally grope Sarah.

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Something Tangible

Chapter One: Crystal Memories

Jareth sat in his throne room, carelessly sprawled over his chair as he stared dully at the platform. He was bored. In fact, he was more then bored; he was probably minutes away from dying with the lack of interest. The problem was, he was so disinterested that he had no personal motive to try to stop what was boring him, namely the play his goblins had been performing for _**the last seven hours**_**…**

It was monologue. It was worse than 'monologue', because it was the goblins. Their voices were worse then a cheap midi of a droning spokesman if the midi was being run through a blender. And the story was as bad as Barney meets Barbie Princesses, meets B-rated horror films, with a vocabulary that would be envious of a cat bringing up a hairball… yes, it was that bad.

Obviously the king needed to find something… _anything_… else to do. So when the stage caught fire from a goblin tripping over a cardboard sock puppet that had been left on the floor, Jareth took no chances and fled. By the time the fire had been put out, he had locked himself in his tower where no one _dared_ disturb him.

The door closed him off from the rest of the world. Our beloved Goblin King sunk to the floor, leaned against the door, and ran his gloved fingers through his long flaxen hair. It fell flat against his face, diverse to his normally poofy hair that remained disheveled no matter what he tried. He lifted a few strands up to his eyes and stared at them, perturbed. Even his _hair_ had been bored. That took more then just a fluke… He began to wonder whether the entire play had really been an assassination attempt.

Sitting in his tower didn't solve anything… He was still bored.

Jareth pulled out one of his crystal balls and started to fiddle with it idly. He could focus on the ball and forget whatever thoughts lay behind his duties as king... He could also _use_ the miraculous orb to look on things... specifically anyone in his kingdom…

_And_ their dreams… All the people who had accepted the crystal without hesitation; all of the children who gave up their siblings, friends, pets... anyone, who had been important to them… over nothing more then a shiny orb that showed them them dreams that could already be imagined…

It sickened him.

But he could also see the dreams of the wished away; those who had been forgotten, and had forgotten themselves… All the memories and dreams of those who were being turned into a goblin weren't just destroyed. Instead, each thought became an energy wave that his crystals could easily envelop. At least _he_ could see what they once were.

And so he had much to look at, if he so pleased.

But today, he didn't want old memories and broken promises.

He wanted something** real**, something **solid**, and something oh so very **tangible**.

And so his thoughts drifted to her. It made him frown. The only one whose dreams he wanted, he did not have. She had denied him.

He twitched. The crystal took to the floor as though gravity were a new concept, and shattered on impact. This woke Jareth up from his thoughts, and he stared blankly at the fragments of crystal that were covering the floor like a thick layer of dust.

It took him a long time to piece together what had just happened, and he sighed out of the disillusionment the crystal gave when it was shattered. Instead of one complete thought, it was like the entire floor was millions of abstract feelings that would never be completed. He waved his hand lazily around in a circle, intent on making the remains useful for _something _other then looking like a clump of dust.

The crystal powder disintegrated into something that was glowing _very_ brightly. He drew it towards him with another flick of his hand and the ornate object was picked up and examined. They had become a miniature star.

"I move the stars for no one…" He mumbled under his breath quietly, before he groaned. His thoughts were still on her. Damn. He shoved the star into one of his many pockets with a disgruntled glare at the wall with the window, until he was staring out the window…

Ugh, the thoughts… they never really did leave easily once they surfaced. It had taken him _years_ just to accept the fact that he had been denied. It took him even longer to get _over_ that fact. However, even now, he could never understand just _what had gone wrong_.

Certainly, he had kidnapped her brother. But she was the one who had done the wishing… and _maybe_ taking her hours away, or setting off the cleaners hadn't been the _nicest_ thing in the world… But he wouldn't just let her get hurt. She had read the book. Nowhere in it had it ever been mentioned that there was a high mortality rate… why? Principal, his family only believed in the _idea_ of being in intimate danger.

He sighed. Why couldn't she have been a second too _late_ instead of a second too early? Why couldn't she at least have given him her dreams?? It wasn't fair.

He growled and messed with his hair until the static made it behave semi-normal. There were far more productive ways of dealing with his frustration then moping on the floor like a lost puppy. For example, he could pay little Miss _Sarah_ a visit. Find out how her life was going. Yes, something tangible.

Jareth didn't want to give himself a chance to decide otherwise. He took the form of an owl, and flew out of his tower's window.

He was flying; over the trees, and the fields, and the maze. Everything he owned could be seen from the sky. It took a lot more time to get anywhere then it ever did with magic, but the scenery alone made it worth it. Even the bog, that smelled so horrible from close up, looked exhilarating from up in the air.

He didn't want to rush things by porting there using magic. If he had doubts, it was far easier to turn around in mid-flight then it was if he were to 'poof' in front of the girl. What if he saw her and froze? Or worse yet, too many emotions got in the way? He would lose focus and thus lose the ability to 'poof' away.

He began to fly higher. He flew so high that even with an owl's eyesight he could not discern one object from another down on the ground. Then, straight above him, the sky became a swirl of earthy tones, and then instead of flying upwards into the sky, he was flying down to the earth. This was why his kingdom was called the underground… not because it was under the world which Sarah lived in, but because if magic was not used, you had to fly _up_ to get to the Earth.

Soon he flew over a far less familiar land then that of his kingdom. The scenery had changed dramatically, but within minutes would fly over a small portion of land that remained of an all too familiar park. This would lead him to eventually be perched up on a well-known tree, trying to look through the window into girl's room. Unfortunately, there were blinds in the way.

Sigh.

It looked like he'd have to get her attention the human way. Jareth landed on the step directly in front of their house, and after making sure no one was looking, transformed back into his true appearance. He did, however, just to be safe, alter his clothing according to the 'style' of this world. He was wearing a pair of denim jeans, a typical black t-shirt, and white sneakers. The only thing that hadn't changed in his outfit was his hair and the large pendant that he wore around his neck.

So he stood there, feeling completely naked without his gloves, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do next. The doorbell was right there, perfectly in reach. But did he _really_ want to go through with this? He was wringing his hands together nervously, one of the habits he had when they weren't covered by some form of leather. How many years had it even been? Certainly, in the underground, it had been nearly fifty, but to an immortal, that was a mere blink. But then, thirteen hours had past in his world when less than four had gone by in hers… What if she was already married? God, what if she had a child that looked exactly like her when she was a child?!

Jareth nearly slapped himself mentally. This wasn't a visit between lovers. This wasn't even a visit between friends. Sarah had rejected both from him. Even if she had accepted everyone else, even the firey's, so warmly, she had not accepted him. No, this was him checking up, so that he could have something _fresh_ instead of old memories and a peach induced dream.

The doorbell was pushed. It was too late to go back now. He stood perfectly ridged.

Sarah's stepmother opened part of the door until it was stopped by a chain that still held it closed. She peered out of the gap and looked at him skeptically. "Is there anything I can do for you… _sir_…?"

Jareth, on the other hand, was relieved that he recognized her. His flair for drama kicked in as he took a graceful bow. "Good afternoon ma'am. My name is Jareth. I was a close friend of Miss Sarah William's when we were both in high school… Do you perchance know if I could speak to her..?" Jareth was lying through his teeth, all the while his veins were about to burst. He _hated_ acting human.

Karen didn't notice. Jareth didn't know it, but he really did look an _awful_ lot like one of these new punk rockers that was into the latest thing – heavy metal…However, she put on a polite face. "I'm sorry. Sarah moved out."

* * *

A/N: Will be fluff eventually. But apparently I can't do _completely_ mindless fluff yet. My brain's not that dead. I still need plot… Damn.


	2. Chapter Two: Stay Calm

A/N: The fluff starts shortly. This chapter does not contain fluff. Why? Because when I start writing a story, even one intended to be short, my mind plays tricks on me and gives me PLOT. Oh, horrors. What was meant to be three chapters long will now be at least five, maybe fifty before it's finished. Does this mean I fail at fluff? Probably. I still like it though, and hopefully you do too. If not. Tough. I'll still write more.

Oh, I'll be posting a little thing on mirror focus soon saying I'm taking a break from it. Why? Because I've decided to write that story seriously, which includes doing a complete outline beforehand so that any and all plot is done ahead of time. This story isn't as serious, and I'm seriously just writing as I go. I prefer it this way usually, but Mirror Focus needs a lot of foreshadowing and plot for what I have planned.

I do not own Labyrinth. If I did, it wouldn't be older then I am

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Something Tangible

Chapter Two: Stay Calm

An hour later, 101 Silver Falls Crescent, a taxi would stop behind an old, beat up car. Jareth would shove some money that would later on turn into a snake into the grubby driver's hands, and stepped out of the vehicle.

He was horrible with maps. His home needed none, since it was constantly changing its mind on how anyone went anywhere. So it was realistic to say that, after half an hour of convincing Karen to give him Sarah's address, he had no idea how to get there on his own, because he had no idea where it was… especially since he had found out that 12 years had past since he had last visited this world, so anything he remembered from before was probably invalid. It was fluke chance that he found Sarah's old house at all.

And so Jareth, king of the goblins, had been acting human for over an hour now, and frankly, he was sick of it. It just felt so… dirty. Earlier on, in the taxi that smelled of cigarette smoke mixed with beer, he had been so sick of the conversation the driver was trying to start about a woman having a baby in the back of the car. But then he had remembered the play… The play he had renamed from 'How Dumpy the Troll-Eating Frog saved the Bog of Eternal Stench from Smelling Worse', to 'The Play of (ba ba ba bum!) Certain Death'. Mostly he renamed it based upon the fate of anyone who was forced to watch the thing.

He had decided, then and there, that _anything_ was safer then going home.

Jareth looked up at the house which he was now standing in front of. It was a typical middle-class home. Two stories tall, painted white, and sufficiently sized but fairly small compared to her parent's home. He noticed a few lights were on in the upper level, and took that to mean that there was somebody, hopefully Sarah, home.

He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell without much hesitation. Then there was the waiting. Jareth was not a very patient man, so when there was no answer within a few moments, he rang again. And then he rang a third time… a fourth… a fifth... and then he just started pushing the doorbell in constantly for a good fifteen seconds.

Finally, when no answer came, Jareth did the next best thing and tried opening the door. Apparently it was locked. So Jareth gave up on the human way of doing things, and did things his own way. He looked up and grinned. There was a window on the second level. Better yet, it was open. He simply did what he had intended at the other house, changed into an owl again, and flew in.

What he did not expect to find on the other side of the window, was Sarah, in a grungy t-shirt and pair of sweatpants. She was stopped a few steps down the stairs, and was staring with a tired form of confusion at the owl that had now landed on her floor.

Jareth looked up at her, tilted his head to the side, and blinked. Sarah had aged quite a bit. No longer was she the obstinate girl who had stood defiantly before him on their last meeting. Now, she was an obstinate woman who was getting a broom out of a nearby closet. Wait, what?

Sarah was heading straight for Jareth, and apparently planned to shoo him away with a broom. He didn't intend to give her a chance and flew away from the broom indignantly as it swatted.

There was a bit of a hassle as Sarah kept waving the broom around and Jareth, simply looking for a place to safely land and shift appearances, tried to dodge it. However, it was far easier to move a broom around in a small hallway then it was a large owl. So when Jareth found a place to morph, it wasn't because he landed there, but because the broom had hit him into a wall.

Sarah was panting rather heavily and leaning on the broom when Jareth began to transform, but she simply stopped breathing once he was standing, or rather sitting in a crumpled heap, before her. Thankfully, for him at least, he had been in a state of mind enough to return with gloves on. But he had forgotten to change anything else and was still in the same human getup he had been in moments before. He looked up at her awkwardly, and she stared down at him speechlessly… and they both stared at each other for quite some time…

And then the screaming started.

"_You._" She accused in a hoarse whisper.

Jareth was picking himself up off the floor. "Sarah, let me expla-"

"You..!"

Jareth gave her an odd look, now towering over her like he used to. "You? Just you? I really was expecting you to say something about how unfair it is, or is that still coming?"

"What are you doing-" Sarah started to ask, completely bewildered. But then she stopped and instead simply pointed down the hall towards the stairs. "Get out." She wasn't even yelling. It was all hushed, dangerously cold undertones that could curdle milk. Jareth, however, didn't budge. In fact, he was in a rather good mood. It wasn't very often that anyone was willing to try to order him around, and frankly, it amused him when they did.

"Is that going to be it? Personally I thought that 'that's not fair' had a far better ring to it…"

"I said…get. out." Sarah sounded completely livid. Jareth found himself rather alarmed that he had made her this angry. Though he was still by the wall, he shifted further away from Sarah and held up his hands inoffensively.

"Sarah, I know this isn't… exactly what you were expecting when you woke up today, but I don't mean you, or your brother any-"

Jareth was cut off when the broom hit him square in the face. He stepped back out of surprise and rubbed at his jaw, looking at her with a rather hurt expression. Sarah didn't seem to be the least bit sympathetic. In fact, she looked ready to do it again.

"Now that was just plain rude. You're not even giving me a chance to apolo-" The broom was swung again. This time, however, the Goblin King was far more prepared. Before it even had the chance to come near his face, Jareth took hold of the handle. He looked at Sarah seriously. "You really are just as tenacious as you were as a child." He gave a quick yank and pulled the broom out of her hands, and dropped it over the railing that overlooked the lower half of the house. "I suggest you kindly grow out of that quality, for both our sakes?"

Sarah, however, was starting to wheeze as much as before, looking ready to kill him… he could tell. She was clenching her fists tightly, literally shaking with rage. Okay, that was it. He hadn't come here to be yelled at. Not this early on, at any rate.

"Will you just let me explain!?" He snapped, frowning down at her.

"_I don't want your explanations!"_ She had stepped up directly in front of him, glaring furiously. "I just want you to leave!" He frowned deepened as he felt rather disappointed in the girl. Maybe she really _hadn't _grown up.

"Are you really this thickheaded, Sarah, or are you only like this around me? Is it that hard for you to comprehend that _I haven't __**done anything**__ yet_!?"

"Not done anything!?" She was starting to yell, though it was more of a shrill screech. Jareth winced. "You kidnapped my brother! You tried to kill me on more then one occasion! You drugged me! What more do you need to do to me before you leave me alone!?" He hadn't thought it possible. Sarah was shaking more then she had been. And not only that…

This close up, Jareth noticed just how pale Sarah was, especially when compared to the peachy tan that had been so vividly burned into his memory. "Sarah," he warned. "This isn't calming down."

Her voice was crackling. "_Calm_? _**Calm?!**_" Sarah began to frantically look around. Jareth _knew _what searching for a weapon looked like. Needless to say, he was not impressed.

"You don't need to do this," Jareth said firmly. He stood ready to restrain her if need be. If Sarah was going to insist on acting like such a child, he could overpower her easily, whatever offense she created.

Sarah's eyes caught sight of the vase that was perched on the end of the staircase, holding a withered bouquet of posies. She started for it, walking past Jareth in the process. However, a mere few steps away from the stairs she would falter, stopping to put a shaky hand to her forehead.

Her eyes had lost their focus, having completely glazed over, and before Jareth realized what was going on she began to lose her balance. She took another step forward to try to recover her stability, but forgot to shift her weight… And so she collapsed, eyes half-closed, straight towards the stairs.

The vase fell. It crashed mercilessly down the stairs, and shattered on impact with the stony base. Glass shard jutted everywhere from the already hard landing. And then the liquid came, pooling around the shards as it accumulated at the bottom.

* * *

A/N: OMFG DID ME LIE!? NO FLUFF 4 US!? NO J/S!? WRYYYYYYYYY!?one

Guess you have to wait 'till the next chapter to find out 8D Yes, I am just that evil. On the bright side, the third chapter's already done and is just waiting to be posted when I feel like it. 83 But when will that be, I wonder?

Well, guess it depends on how many of you threaten, er, I mean, critique/review me. Yes, I take critiques. I take critiques well. So if you feel like going through my writing and telling me what I mess up or need to write better, please go right ahead. Just don't try flaming me by going "OMFG YOU SUCK!" because I'll ignore you.


	3. Chapter Three: Everything's Awkward

Something Tangible

A/N: I did research on what fluff is, and decided I can't write it. I prefer writing things more substantial with plot. Fluff has no plot. It's just who, what, when, where, how, without the why usually with tons of cute mush. I can write cute mush, I really can… It's just, the plot is just as important, and so this is just more of a 'fluffy as in cute' romance. Does that make sense? And I have to lead up to it. I can't _do_ "omfg I just suddenly love you Jareth now and every time I look at you I to snog you" I need reason. I need time. I need _plot_. I take things slow, like real relationships between people where one of them hates the others guts to begin with. I don't rush into things.

GIVE ME THIS AND THE NEXT TWO CHAPTERS. If by that time, this story doesn't have any of what you consider fluff, then I'm sorry, but for a while this style is probably the most you're getting. But the next two are complete, and I think they're adorable. Reviews and critiques help though. If there's something that's just messing with your head, please, do tell me.

I do not own Labyrinth, if I did, Sarah would have pulled an Elizabeth Swann and kissed Jareth to get him off guard. xDD

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Something Tangible

Chapter Three: Everything's Awkward

Beep… Beep… Beep… Beeeeeeeeep

The thermometer was pulled out of her mouth, and Jareth examined the temperature carefully. When it read 38.9°, he looked over at the girl with concern. This wasn't quite what he had in mind when he came to visit…

If there was one emotion Jareth could work under pressure with, it was fear. Jareth had been terrified when he realized that Sarah had passed out, and was therefore in the correct state of mind to transport himself partway down the stairs. From there, he caught the unconscious female before she reached the bottom; where a vase she had knocked over in her initial fall lay in a heap of glass.

That was ten minutes ago. Since then, Sarah had been moved into what he assumed to be her bed, and covered with practically any blanket he could find. Several others that he had stolen from what appeared to be a guest-room had just been dropped on the floor just in case she needed more. He had also gone to search for a thermometer, and after nearly slipping on a pool of water that was spilt over the bottom of the stairs, had rifled through probably a zillion pill bottles in the bathroom cabinet before he found one.

Now she was under covers, and he was sitting on the side of the bed, watching her sleep. She was deathly pale. Jareth idly brushed a stray hair out of her face, sighing softly. Fever, dizziness, exhaustion… there was no doubt about it. Sarah was sick, probably with some form of the flu. Some severe form of the flu by the looks of things… it was a wonder she had even gotten out of bed. She should have just stayed there, and not gone to answer the door… That was his fault. Perhaps ringing the doorbell nonstop wasn't the best solution… Then again neither was entering the house uninvited.

Jareth got off the bed, placed the thermometer on a small bedside table, and left the room.

There was still the matter of cleaning up the water and glass that was at the base of the stairs. Slipping on water was one thing… slipping on water and landing on glass shards was another. Jareth picked up the broom that he had taken from Sarah earlier on, and headed down the stairs. The vase was not his crystal. He couldn't simply turn it into something else. No, he had to clean things the old fashioned way.

He looked at the other mess he had made, the one in the bathroom. Ugh, he might as well just clean everything he'd messed up already.

-

Half an hour later, Jareth would enter Sarah's bedroom to check up on her, carrying a large glass of water. She was still asleep, though she did look more at peace than she had earlier. Jareth placed the glass of water on the table next to the thermometer, and sat down next to the bed, not wanting to wake her from new weight moving the bed.

Now that she wasn't screaming words of hate, she was quite a bit more beautiful, and reminded him vividly of the idealistic girl he had danced with, once. He couldn't help but wonder what she was dreaming about now, and once again craved to steal her dreams away so that he could forever watch them.

Jareth's thoughts were pushed aside when he felt something warm in his right hand. He looked at it. Without realizing he was doing so, his glove had been taken off and his bare hand had been placed on Sarah's forehead. He sat there, frozen for a moment. His hands weren't used to touching _anything_ without their leather shell, let alone skin and flesh of a living, breathing person.

Her skin was warm to the touch. He should have withdrawn his hand then, but he had fallen into a daze from just how _soft _she was... Jareth traced his finger down her cheek gently, completely absorbed in its silky texture.

Sarah's face distorted into a weary shudder, and Jareth pulled his hand back as if it had been burnt.

Olive green eyes fluttered open and took a moment to focus on their surroundings. Sarah looked up at Jareth tiredly, her eyes reflecting the confusion that the rest of her body was still too exhausted to display.

"Why are you still here..?" She asked in a course whisper. Jareth sighed, looking down at her seriously, ignoring what had gone on seconds ago.

"Would you rather I let you fall down a flight of stairs..? Sarah, I'm not the heartless villain you seem to portray me as." He looked at her grimly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sarah groaned quietly and turned over onto her side, facing away from Jareth. "What were you doing here in the first place..? I thought I had put some sort of magical restraining order over you…"

Jareth smiled thinly. "Hardly… I had a strong feeling that if I showed my face anywhere nearby I'd have something thrown at it…" He rubbed at his jaw out of memory. "I also reign over a land of goblins, whose time goes by faster then yours, so it isn't necessarily a good idea to leave it for extended periods…"

She looked over at him from the corner of her eyes. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I came here because I was always wondering how you had grown up... Apparently you haven't." Sarah turned towards him and looked like she was about to retort. Jareth put a finger to her lips sternly, which shut her up. "You can yell at me all you want when you're better. I'll probably have done something to deserve it by then. For now, just get some rest."

Sarah stared at him strangely, seeming disorientated. However, she seemed to listen, and the tense atmosphere that had been rising diminished as she relaxed against the bed. Jareth removed his finger. Sarah didn't finish whatever thought she had wanted to start, and instead watched him quietly.

He was busy looking over at the glass of water. Memories of being sick as a child came back to him; his mother making absolutely certain that he had drunk enough water to hydrate an elephant…

"Sarah, you need to drink something… here." Jareth picked up the glass of water and offered it to her. She stared at it skeptically, before without the expected complaint that it had been poisoned, Sarah started to sit up. When she began having difficulty doing so, Jareth reached out his free hand and placed in on her back, easing her up the rest of the way and helping her remain in an upright position as he handed her the glass. Sarah took it in both hands carefully and began to drink.

She handed the empty cup to him, and he placed it on the floor. There was an awkward silence. Sarah idly looked at the design on the top of the blanket as she held the sheets in her hand. Jareth was still helping her stay up, and was therefore leaning fairly close to her. Their eyes met. A tension that felt as thick as fog raised, and Sarah shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting elsewhere. Jareth withdrew his hand, allowing her to lay back onto the bed again.

Jareth took the time to put his hand back into the glove that had been carelessly dropped on top of the thermometer. He wasn't Michael Jackson; wearing only one glove just didn't cut it. Sarah watched him quietly. She still looked as confused as she had when she woke up.

"…Why do you always wear gloves..?"

"What?" The question caught Jareth off guard. When did she start noticing his clothes? What happened to the stoic hate-glares she had been sending him since he got here?

"Well…" Sarah started, fidgeting with her sheets. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Back in the Goblin Kingdom… in less then thirteen hours you changed outfits what..? Five times..? But you always wore gloves… and even now, in jeans and a t-shirt, you're wearing them again…"

Jareth looked down at his attire. The gloves did clash with the rest of his outfit. Of course, everything _except_ the gloves clashed with his personality.

"Well..?"

"It's habit." Jareth stated defensively.

"Habit..?" Sarah was being persistent. Even sick, she was persistent.

"Is there anything you need me to get so you can rest easier?" He asked quietly. This was awkward. Taking care of someone who appeared to hate you was really, _really_ awkward. Taking care of somebody asking questions was even _more_ awkward. Everything was awkward, just awkward; really awkward. It was horrible.

"You're avoiding my question!" She accused.

"Get some rest, Sarah. You need to fight off this illness before you fight off Goblin Kings." Jareth ignored the pout he was receiving from her and got off of the floor. "I'll come and check up on you in a few hours."

Sarah looked ready to protest, but she also looked extremely drowsy. She bit her tongue and rested her head against her pillow, turning onto her side again to curl up into a ball. Jareth stood over her for a few moments, before he turned and quietly left the room.

He shut the door behind him and sighed softly. Why was it that no matter where he went, he seemed to end up the baby-sitter?

* * *

A/N: Yay for sick. In case you're wondering, no, Sarah doesn't have a cough. She just has a sore throat. Writing constant coughing in a story is sucky, and flues (if this really is _just _the flu… muahahahah?) have many different symptoms and not all at the same time. So hah.

Well, _I_ think it's getting cuter. But maybe I'm just warped. Tell me what you think. Ask questions. You _may_ get a response. :)

Oh, and funny: Imagine if Micheal Jackson HAD been asked to play Jareth, and consider the following quote:

"In nine hours and twenty-three minutes, you'll be mine."


	4. Chapter Four: Oops

A/N: Well, I completed this chapter in less then three hours, which is good for me. Normally it takes five or eight, most of which is spent staring at the screen blankly, which basically deprives me of the sleep I need.

It was also completed basically right after the second chapter was posted, so I have a nice cushion of chapters to give you if I become uninspired.

However, I have half a mind not to post anymore. Out of all the reviews I recieved for the last chapter,

Now read, and enjoy Jareth making a fool of himself. And the cute that comes after.

I do not own Labyrinth. Trust me, if you did, you'd know. You're all obsessive like that.

* * *

Something Tangible

Chapter Four: Oops

Nearly five hours later, Jareth returned to check up on Sarah. He had never intended to leave her alone for so long, but he had returned to his kingdom to make sure things hadn't blown up. He found that they had… namely a portion of his castle… the portion the play had been in… Once the problem had been fixed, Jareth had spent even long throwing orders left and right so that the little morons wouldn't completely destroy the place while he was gone.

But in order for five hours to pass by for Sarah, an entire thirteen had gone by for him. That was how long it had taken to fix everything the goblin's had destroyed. He hadn't even had the chance to change into anything until the last minute. By that time the only thing he could think up was just a white tunic, and black leggings, complete with another pair of black gloves… Well, it was better then jeans…

To be frank, he was tired. He had been up for over twenty-six hours straight, and was probably going to have to be doing this again for another twenty-six…

Sarah was sound asleep, still curled up how he had left her hours before. Her pillow was no longer under her head though, it was being hugged tightly to her chest with her face buried in it. It was actually quite cute, if he did say so himself.

Jareth looked around the room and found the clock that told her world's time. Twelve hours… There was no way he would ever get used to that. It was almost 6:00. From the fact it was actually light out, that must have been in the afternoon, not the morning. That meant that Sarah would probably need to eat soon, especially if she hadn't eaten yet that day.

He left her side again, picking up the glass he had left on the floor and went to the upstairs bathroom he had found just before he left. He filled the glass with more water and returned to leave it on her table for if she woke up on her own.

Then he found the kitchen. It was actually a bit frightening. He knew where almost every room in Sarah's house was, and he had yet to actually be 'invited in'. He felt a bit like a grave robber, even though no one was dead and he hadn't stolen anything.

The kitchen was a mess. Apparently Sarah refused to do dishes, and so basically all of them were in the sink or surrounding counters, and a large bag of plastic plates and cutlery was sitting in the middle of the table… Well, that was fine. It would work.

Jareth set to work, starting to look for something easy to digest in the fridge. Maybe some fruit? He'd offer her a peach, but he could only imagine how _that_ would turn out… Bread would also do well, or some sort of a soup…

Once the fridge had been opened, Jareth stared, completely mortified, at its contents. It was horrifying. There was a bag of carrots that was so old that each carrot looked like elongated old potatoes in gravy. There was a green sandwich on a plate that had probably been sitting there for more then two weeks. That wasn't all, oh no. There were also several half-empty tin cans that were growing new life forms, two jugs of milk that each had a greenish tinge to them, and a half-eaten piece of fruit that _really_ shouldn't have been that black… or leaky… To make things worse, the fridge let out a stink that put the Bog of Eternal Stench to shame… _It sure was good to know that she took care of herself…_

The door was shut, and Jareth muttered "Never again," under his breath, appalled. If he could grant his own wishes, he would have made it so that he would _never_ remember this. Unfortunately, he couldn't, and so he had to ignore the traumatizing screams in his head and start searching through cabinets for something _safe_ to eat. Screw digestible. As long as it was safe, she'd live.

After several attempts, he found a cabinet that wasn't filled with spider-webs instead of the plates they should have held. Jareth started looking for something safe _and_ digestible, just in case something like that actually existed in here. He clearly paled when his eyes rested on a large box in the corner that was titled 'chicken noodle soup'…

Humans _ate_ chickens!?

-

CRASH!

Clank. Clunk. Clink. BAM!

Jareth swore, loudly, but it was muffled. He was writhing underneath an excruciatingly painful amount of frying pans, from a cabinet that was apparently not meant to be opened. He managed to shove several of them off, and start to get up, mildly disoriented.

Just then, the smoke alarm went off. His attention returned to the reason he was _looking_ in the cabinet in the first place. Smoke rose from one of several pots that were cooking on the stove.

He swore again. This time it was louder, considering he wasn't under a ton of pans. He couldn't find anything better at such short notice, so he picked up one of the frying pans and frantically filled it with water. This was poured onto the entire stove, and, since all the burners were on, caused the smoke to mix with an enormous amount of steam. Soon the entire kitchen was basically in a cloud, and Jareth couldn't see where he was going, or find any of the knobs to shut off the burners.

Then the oven started smoking too… directly into Jareth's face. He gagged, finally found one of the knobs to shut off one of the burners, and withdrew from the electronic machine of death.

When he had regained his sense of direction thanks to some of the steam lifting, and could actually breathe again, Jareth ran at the stove and started looking for knobs again, coughing his way through it.

It was just at the end of this drive that Sarah came down the steps, having been awakened from her sleep by the loud crashes from moments before. She watched him from outside the kitchen, where she could still breathe.

Jareth was just pouring another pan of water onto the now cooling stove when Sarah commented, "I don't believe I gave you permission to blow up my house…"

Jareth jumped with surprise, turning to look at her. Of course, from this side of things she just looked like a blob. An attractive blob, but a blob nonetheless.

"Sarah? What are you doing out of bed?" He went towards her, waving smoke out of his face until he was at a safe distance from the oven and could actually see.

She leaned against the entrance to the kitchen. "There was a loud crash… It woke me up." She then resorted to a fit of coughs. The smoke was starting to get out.

"Sorry," he apologized. "That was my fault… I'll clean the mess up. Just go back to sleep… and since you're up, have some more water."

She peered past him, squinting. "What are… _were_… you making?"

He stood there, foolishly. "Chicken noodle soup..?"

Sarah stared at him blankly for a few moments before the inevitable happened; she started to laugh, but the smoke was, as it would be for anyone, really bad for her lungs. She started coughing again, this time more then before. Smoke was bad enough when you were healthy… Being sick made it worse. Several coughs later she was on the floor, gasping for air.

Jareth wasted no time. Before even _he_ realized what he was doing, Sarah had been scooped into his arms. He felt his insides shrink and expand at the same time. Just Sarah's warm body in his arms was enough to make his stomach turn to butterflies. She was coughing too hard to fight back so he had started carrying her away. One of Sarah's hands grabbed hold of the front of his tunic, clenching it tightly as she shoved her face into his shoulder and continued to choke.

Jareth felt so useless. His soup fiasco had only made things worse which was completely opposite of his intentions. If only Sarah would just wish herself better he could ease her pain and not resort to his mother's home remedies.

Jareth was holding her tightly to him as he made his way up the stairs, intent on getting the girl back to her room. He lifted her a little higher to press his forehead to hers in order to get a rough temperature reading. She still had a fever. He could feel her breath on his shoulder, and just how much her body shook with every painful gag. It felt as though his heart were literally bleeding, that he could do little more than hold her close to his steady form to settle the spasms within her chest.

Once they were safely up the stairs and back in Sarah's room, Jareth shoved the door closed with his foot and carried Sarah to her bed. He eased her down onto it carefully, waiting until she released her grip on his shirt before he handed her the water. She took it gratefully, practically chugging the liquid down to relieve her throat of the pain the smoke had caused.

The glass was simply dropped on the bed, and Sarah, who had been sitting upright, practically wilted down onto it as well. Jareth looked down at her, eyes expressing the concern that the rest of his body was too proud to exhibit, even for her. She had stopped coughing, yes, but that didn't mean that she was any better… "Are you going to live down there..?" He asked as lightly as his voice could muster, trying to improve the mood.

Sarah looked up at him tiredly, and he thought for a moment that she was going to start trying to yell again for the mess in the kitchen. Terrific. Of course she was right to do so; he just preferred it to be _not_ when she was sick.

"…Whoever heard of someone who couldn't cook chicken noodle soup..?" Jareth's beating up on himself crashed to a halt as he deadpanned, looking at her. Was she… smiling..? Wow. He couldn't even think of a retort. He just stood at the side of her bed, staring numbly at her beautiful smile. It was the first one that she had _ever _directed towards him… Wow… Just, wow…

Sarah coughed again. Her voice was dry and rough, almost like sandpaper. "…Maybe, for both our sakes, you should stay out of the kitchen…"

He couldn't help but smile at her, reaching a hand out to brush several stray hairs out of her face. "Perhaps, for both our sakes, you should be in possession of something I could make you that doesn't require cooking… or opening your fridge..?"

"You actually looked in _there_..?"

"_Never again_, Sarah..."

* * *

A/N: And suddenly with the magical powers of fire, the atmosphere is lighter… oooh, I can do more with them now that Sarah's seemingly trusting him a little more. –grin- I know the ending wasn't very good, but I promise I'll make it up to you in this next chapter; my last chance to convince some of you that I may still be worth reading.

Get ready folks, from what I have planned, the next chapter will be cute. I'm so happy with it that I went to work _happy_ for once (of course, I didn't comehome happy... but then I looked at this as was at least decent again).


	5. Chapter Five: Prince Charming

A/N: This chapter's long enough without any notes, so just review it, please. I love hearing your input.

And please tell me whether or not in this, my three chapter warning, I managed to get enough fluffy goodness to satisfy your cravings.

Also, sorry if I take too long with the next chapter. Despite the fact that I had a two chapter buffer, I have yet to get halfway into it on account of confusing plot.

I do not own Labyrinth. If I did, I wouldn't be writing or reading fanfiction because I would be mortified on what some people write about my characters. So by glad I don't own it, and read and review the story or maybe I'll buy the rights to it just so that I don't have to write you more stuff.

* * *

Something Tangible

Chapter Five: Prince Charming

"Are any of these what you wanted, Sarah?"

Jareth entered the room, arms completely full of pill bottles he had retrieved from the downstairs bathroom at Sarah's request. She had been feeling decent enough to start ordering him around for things that would help, and was now sitting patiently on the bed, along with Lancelot, who had been pulled out of an old box in her closet.

The containers were dropped at her feet, in the middle of the bed. Sarah started to look through them, and Jareth watched idly from the side. His kingdom had no drugs… not ones that _helped_ you, at least… It bothered him that one person would require so many pills. "Are all of these _really_ necessary..?" he asked with mild concern.

"I only need a pill or two, but I was worried that if I just asked for specifics, that I'd forget something… Besides, most of these aren't even mine. They're Allison's…" Sarah responded, pulling a bottle out of the pile and putting it to the side.

"Allison?"

"She's my roommate… helps pay the mortgage for the house…" Sarah had pulled out two Nyquil capsules and an Advil, and was now proceeding to wiggle the empty glass in front of Jareth's face while continuing to rifle through the bottles. "But she's on her honeymoon right now… Has been for almost a month."

Jareth stared at the glass for a few moments, looking through it at the warped visual of Sarah. Gently, he lifted his hand and placed it on her own, pushing it away from his face quietly. God she was beautiful. He wondered just how much more lovely she was when she wasn't dead sick; her uncombed hair, wrinkled attire, and baggy eyes must have made to her usual attractiveness. And yet, even as she was, he was starting to notice a familiar sensation of attachment to the girl that he had not felt in years.

"Why are you staring at me?" Jareth's thoughts were interrupted and he looked over at Sarah quizzically. She had stopped looking through the pills and was glancing at him. He frowned. This wouldn't do at all.

He muttered a quick word of apology and took the glass from her hand quietly. He left the room and went to the upstairs bathroom again, for the umpteenth time that day.

After the glass was filled, Jareth took the time to splash his face with water. Concentrate… he had to concentrate. Just because she was actually acting _decent_ towards him, didn't mean things wouldn't tense up again after she was well enough to think clearly. If anything, they could only get worse. She was going to yell, like he had promised she could. She was _only _acting hospitable because of the rule that she couldn't yell until she was better….

He probably should never have come here. It was only bringing up old emotions that he thought he had finally gotten rid of.

When the water was brought back to Sarah, he didn't hand it to her; he simply placed in on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I'm going to go clean the kitchen." He stated gravely. "Go to sleep." He said nothing more. He just turned and started to leave.

"Goblin King," Jareth stopped at the door and looked back at her. She was looking rather flushed, causing him to worry on whether or not she was getting worse again.

"Yes, Sarah? Do you require something else?"

She diverted her gaze, staring timidly down at the pills that she was now holding in her clammy hands. She started to fidget.

"No… I just… That is…"

"Go to sleep then, Sarah." Jareth tore himself away. He couldn't handle this right now…

He didn't look back again. If he had, he would have seen Sarah looking absolutely crestfallen.

_-_

Jareth nearly had a heart attack when he entered the kitchen. Apparently, sometime between when the oven had been turned on, and when it had been forced off, it had had an accident. Its temperature on and in had gotten too high; thanks to a little thing called fire, and the entire oven was toast.

Well, there was no one he could he could redirect the blame on to; no little goblin who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time… which also meant that there was no one to order to clean the mess up…

So he did the next best thing, and blew up the fridge as well. If he was going to do any major renovations, that was the next thing that _had_ to go.

Now that everything was destroyed, Jareth picked up a singed mop and collected a bucket of water. This was going to be a long night…

At least Sarah seemed to be getting better… a little. That thought alone was enough to give him the energy to clean.

-

It wouldn't be until around midnight that Jareth would be able to return up into the room that he had grown so familiar with these last few hours. He opened the door quietly, peering in.

He could barely make her out in the dark; she was only a slight outline of her body sound asleep on her bed, with the slightest reflection of her face from the little light the moon cast through her window.

He sighed softly, moving to the bed, which once closer, he noticed to be completely covered with pill bottles that she had apparently been too tired to move. She was also holding an affectionately worn Lancelot to her chest, much like the pillow earlier that day. He carefully moved the drugs off the bed and into a pile on the floor.

He then felt around and found one of the blankets he had kept at the foot of the bed, and placed it over her quietly. Sarah didn't budge. She really was dead to the world. Jareth sat down in his usual place close to the bed, near the center of it. He leaned against it, peering over his shoulder at Sarah. He watched her chest rise softly with her breathing, the only real indication that she was really alive.

It reminded him of Sleeping Beauty; how she just lay there, waiting to be woken by her Prince Charming with a true love's kiss. He yawned, before he rolled his eyes. True love's kiss? Yeah, right. He didn't know what his mother was thinking, reading him all these mushy fairy-tales where the princesses did nothing but get themselves into trouble and then wait for some hero to come snog her. What a load of tripe. Females were _far_ more independent then that…

…And yet, even in the unreality of it all, they were always so busy looking for a Prince Charming that didn't exist… that nobody was ever looking for a Goblin King who did… Jareth touched his gloved fingers against his lips softly, releasing a pain-wracked sigh. They were polar opposites. A prince had no obligation to his kingdom… A king always did. Charming was the manifestation of delightful, appealing, captivating… the exact opposite of what the term goblin would ever mean... And Jareth, as much as he had tried, could never meet up to the expectations of Prince Charming…

He turned around and sat on his knees, resting his one arm on the bed. The other one reached forward, and his fingers brushed against Sarah's own lips tenderly, in one of the softest of caresses.

"I wish you could find your Prince Charming, Sarah…" He whispered quietly, his voice betraying the emotions he was denying himself. Of course, the wish would do never be answered… it was his own wish, and therefore, he could not grant it.

He had hardly noticed, but since he had entered the room his eyelids had been growing more and more heavy. This new misery rid him of whatever energy he had left, and without meaning to, Jareth blinked… except his eyes were too heavy to open again.

And so he fell asleep with his head falling onto his one arm, the other still lingering where it had dropped; on the shoulder of a slumbering princess.

-

_Jareth was dreaming. That was terrible. He wasn't supposed to fall asleep. He was supposed to go back to his own kingdom and check up on things. Now at least two or three days would go by without a king… why? Because he was sleeping… He felt so juvenile. _

…_He had almost always been able to tell when he was dreaming. It was hard not to after growing up watching everyone else's as a source of entertainment. There were always key elements that any dream had, that were dead giveaways…_

_Like, for example, that he was watching his twelve year old self... Well, more like one and a half thousand… but details like that needed to be ignored when it came to dreams; especially one where he was having a pathetic argument with a seven-year old Sarah. Over a doll, no less…_

_They were standing on a large hill. The grass was green, and the sky was a cloudless blue. On the ground, however, things were far less peaceful. Jareth was tantalizingly holding the doll out of Sarah's reach as she tried to reach it._

"_Give him back! He's mine!" Sarah pouted, jumping towards the doll that was pulled out of reach every time she got close. Jareth gleamed at her, shaking it in her face. _

"_Nope. He's mine now. You said I could have him, remember?"_

_Sarah crossed her arms, glaring up at the older boy. "I said you could __**borrow**__ him, you big jerk!"_

"_Look Sarah! He looks like me!" Jareth laughed haughtily and circled around her, still keeping the doll, who really did look like him, just out of reach._

"_I don't care! Give Freddie back now, __**or else**__!" Sarah was screaming. Her face was as red as a peach, and she swiped at the doll again._

_  
"Or else what?" Jareth asked with a smirk. _

"_I'll, I'll… oh come on, give me him back, pretty please??"_

_Jareth smirked perversely, placing the doll behind his back and leaning in towards her. _

"_What'll you give me for him?"_

_Sarah looked surprised at the sudden offer and seemed to hesitate. Her eyes filled with determination. "What do you want?"_

_He grinned like a little devil. "How about a kiss?"_

_Sarah's eyes bulged and she stepped away from him. "Ew! No! Cooties!"_

_Jareth looked mildly disappointed, and pulled the doll out, looking at it with disinterest. "Then he's mine, forever… are you sure that's your final answer?" He looked over at her idly, pulling at the doll's head._

"_No, this is." _

_Sarah walked right up to him and kicked Jareth's balls; and not the shiny clear ones that he knew how to juggle. Jareth groaned in pain dropped the doll as he collapsed onto the floor. Sarah snatched Freddie, and without looking back even once, ran away into the distance…_

_What a dream. That was horrible. If he had __**any**__ control over his dreams, other then knowing he was having one, he would have seen that coming and asked for something a bit simpler... Like a dance…_

_The dream shifted; story changing, characters distorting, and the sky suddenly filled with that perfect amount of clouds that everyone hopes to see on a decently warm day. _

_Kid Jareth had, in his awkwardness, matured backwards, and was now five, curled up and sleeping serenely next to still a still seven year old Sarah. She was staring up at the clouds, watching them go by with a dreamy gleam in her eyes. It was devastatingly cute..._

_Sarah sat up and turned over to the sound asleep Jareth, who was sucking his thumb quietly. She looked confused for a moment, before she smiled softly._

"_He's actually kind of cute when he's asleep…" She whispered tenderly. There was a hesitation in her eyes as she reached out slowly, stroking a part of Jareth's hair. She giggled, playing with it a little. "I never expected it to feel this clean… I wonder how often he bathes…"_

_Jareth moved in his sleep, causing Sarah to pull her hand away quietly, still watching him. Her eyes became downcast and she looked away sadly. _

"_Maybe I was too rash… He seems to have grown up past his arrogant behavior… or at least he knows how to ignore it…" _

_Her own fingers curled around that of the child's, and she lay down again, facing him instead of the sky. This is how she fell asleep._

_Jareth stopped paying as much attention to his dreamscape as it shifted into the more abstract ones… ones that not even __**he**__ could translate…_

_And so almost the rest of the night slipped by in swirls of intangible ideas and empty thoughts…There were a few incomplete dreamscapes that showed up, causing Jareth's attention to fall again away from sleep, and back to the dream residue that filled his imagination._

_An old memory of his mother cooking… a goblin puking on his boots… a pair of black gloves sitting forgotten on an empty chair…_

_And then there was a starry night drowning in a sea of snakes… and he heard **her** scream… piercing through the silence like a knife in his heart…_

* * *

A/N: …anyone want to tell me they found nothing cute about this chapter??

They can tell me there was nothing funny. This one was more serious. It's basically the climax of this part of the story, and therefore had to be the cutest. The next chapter has more of what you have actually been commenting on, like the cooking incident… Hee…

Okay, maybe not quite as chaotic as the noodle soup incident, or the fridge, but still.


	6. Chapter Six: The Fault is My Own

A/N: Last chapter! Bet you didn't expect me to say that. Ha ha ha ha, the longest chapter is the last one… figures. D: Sorry folks, but this chapter marks the end of Something Tangible. Read the A/N at the end of the chapter for more info on where I plan to go after this.

Anywhooo, after rereading through the story, I realize that romance/general, really WASN'T the right genre. Jareth made me do it, because he's a dork. A hopeless romantic of a dork. There will be sequels though. Romantic love gushing sequels. After the less romantic, still rather sweet, sequels. Read the A/N at the end of the chapter for more info on where I plan to go after this.

For now, just enjoy the story. And remember, read the A/N at the end of the chapter for more info on where I plan to go after this. (I don't know how many more times I have to copy and paste "Read the A/N at the end of the chapter for more info on where I plan to go after this." before I'm certain that you remember to do so. I do have plans for proper romance sometime! Well written romance at that. Yay!)

I do not own Labyrinth. If I did, Hoggle would have washed his hands before he gave Sarah that peach… (icky)

* * *

Something Tangible

Chapter Six: The Fault is My Own

_And then there was a starry night drowning in a sea of snakes… and he heard** her** scream… piercing through the silence like a knife in his heart…_

Jareth woke up with a jolt, eyes wide from the vivid half-dream he had just witnessed.

Confusion rippled through him. He wasn't stretched out comfortably, wasn't curled beneath his pure black duvet. There was no gentle crackle of a dying fireplace, and no low rumble of the goblin horde in anarchy.

Instead he was staring at something horrid. Stripes. White, brown and blue stripes were crumpled in his clenched fist.

Sarah. He was at her house. He had slept by her bed. His hair even messier than it should have been followed his near whiplash worthy turn to check on her. Sarah… wasn't there, she wasn't sleeping, wasn't in bed?!

Jareth felt the terror seep into the pit of his existence.

Jareth stood, or at least tried to, he now felt the grave mistake that was the position he had fallen asleep in. His lower legs had lost all circulation. There were at least five cricks somewhere in his spine and both his arms felt like lead. Through this he miraculously dragged himself close to the head of the bed, where the blankets were cold from her lack of form.

For fear of a certain dream, he had an overwhelming was the urge to check for blood. The hideous purple checkered bed sheets were clean, with exception of the yellow stains of her sweating through a fever.

She was sick, what was she doing? Through considerable effort he dragged himself to his feet. He could already picture her, still clinging to consciousness, falling down all of everywhere. Vivid imaginations, although lovely tools for creating masterpieces in art were not the sort of thing you wanted when trying not to picture the repeat of nightmares.

Whatever color was left in Jareth's face paled at a new thought; _...the stairs…_

In mere seconds he was outside of the bedroom, looking frantically in every direction for the girl.

Jareth's body still burned, but his mind was screaming loud enough to over-ride it. Above all else he had to find her, just to know that the sinking feelings in his stomach were unfounded. She was a sane, rational, person, after all. She was probably fine with the exception that she was… drugged up.

His only point for comparison was goblin drugs. He hadn't been there until she was fast asleep. She'd taken them and he had wandered off. What rabbit hole could those little green pills have sent her down?

Jareth's gloves pulled at his thick, wild hair. Screw dignity, poise, or proper etiquette. He couldn't just pull up a crystal and see that she was alright. He dashed down the stairs and nearly slipped on his probably still discolored legs.

But he merely stumbled and managed to stop himself with a gasp of air. And in the moment of baited silence he heard her humming.

He found her downstairs, in the kitchen that he had made virtually spotless the night before. Dishes had been washed. Appliances had been replaced. Plastic utensils had been thrown away… It was a mystery how Jareth had managed to stay sane…

Sarah was making a large pot of oatmeal on her new stove, with Lancelot sitting nearby against a counter wall. "Good morning, Goblin King." She stated, able to tell he was standing there… probably due to the loud thundering noise his feet had made while dashing down the stairs. She peered over her shoulder, directing a small smile at him. "I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to wake up today."

Jareth's mind went numb. He had probably made a complete fool of himself just then. However, Sarah's gentle smile had wiped away all the fear he had just moments ago. Damn she was good. Jareth couldn't even think far enough to straighten himself up before blubbering in shock. "You're out of bed..? And cooking..?"

Sarah shrugged and returned to watching the pot as she stirred. "I was awake, I was hungry, and I don't trust your cooking…" Just the last part was enough explanation alone... "I really don't want my house burning down… no offense" Her voice sounded less ragged then it had the night before, which really could have meant that she was getting better.

Jareth had walked over next to her now, and examining Sarah, who, he admitted, looked a lot less worse for wear. He gently put his finger under her chin and turned her to face him. She did so willingly enough, staring perplexedly towards him while he examined her face. Her cheeks had part of her natural flush back, and her eyes had regained the luster that he had grown so fond of years before.

"You look… healthy...er" He commented inelegantly, dropping his hand out of embarrassment.

Sarah looked away uneasily. "I don't get sick very easily… but when I do, even though my immune system can usually get rid of it within one or two days, those few days are _always_ filled with me in _complete_ misery…" Ouch. So Jareth _had_ done more bad then good. She still hadn't needed to say it like _that_.

Jareth chose to ignore the obviously spiteful comment, and instead found something else to worry about since Sarah seemed to be okay now. In this case, he looked at the pot of oatmeal, bubbling away almost as much as the bog did. In fact, the consistency of it seemed to remind him of what his first reaction to the bog's smell had lead to.

Needless to say, it was not a pleasant thought, and so Jareth stared with complete distaste at the gruel in the pot. "Is that even _edible_..?"

Sarah looked up at him skeptically. "You wonder if _my_ cooking's edible..?"

Jareth groaned. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you..?" One mistake,… ONE MISTAKE, And he had gone from a menacing villain to a laughing stock. Granted, being king, he hardly ever had a need to cook… but still, burning noodle soup _hardly_ needed to be brought up in _every_ conversation since…

"Not a chance…" Sarah's skepticism turned to a wry grin and she held up a scoop of the gruel to his face. Jareth took comfort in the fact that she wasn't mentioning his gawky near tumble down the stairs. "So, does your revulsion at my food mean won't be wanting any..?"

Sarah's cruelty knew no- Jareth paused for a moment to think over what Sarah had just said. His eyes literally widened in realization and he gawked at her.

"What?" He needed to hear again, just in case his ears really had been mistaken. Sarah stared at him oddly before she dropped the spoon in the pot and moved the pot off the burner.

"Goblin King, do you want food, or don't you? It's not a life or death question, and you seem to be fine with those…" She was scurrying around the kitchen getting dishes, sugar, and other necessities. Jareth watched her from where he stood, still feeling the need to understand the concept.

"Breakfast… with you..?"

She stopped in the middle of the kitchen and stared at him, putting her hands on her hip as she huffed at him. "Is there something wrong with the concept of eating around me..?"

Jareth shook his head. "No, I'm just shocked."

"What, that I had enough food to feed two people?"

"No, that you would offer me anything other than insults and pain…"

There was a pause in the conversation. Jareth started to stare at his boots. There was nothing special about them, they just happened to be the closest thing to the floor, that wasn't the floor. Floors were especially easy to stare at when you didn't want to look at something.

Now was one of these times. He could tell by the change in her eyes; Sarah had not appreciated that last comment. There was a strong chance he may have hurt her feelings with just what he expected of her now.

There was a deep sigh from across the room. "Just eat your oatmeal." Sarah said with a uncaring tone to her voice. She placed two bowls of oatmeal and Lancelot on a small circular table in the middle of the kitchen and sat down, practically smothering her oatmeal in brown sugar.

Jareth looked up again and looked at the food. Silently, he sat down on the opposite end of the table and pulled the bowl to him. It _still_ didn't look all that appetizing… He learned by example and put the sugar on it, though not nearly _half_ as much as Sarah had.

He ate a spoonful of the oatmeal, and decided that it tasted better then he thought it would be, though at the same time it tasted like nothing special.

"I'd offer you milk… but you threw mine away…" Sarah commented idly. Jareth peered over at her from his spoon.

"Yes, I'm sure the milk would go very wonderfully with the meal, Sarah," he replied sarcastically, "The green tinge would have complimented your eyes beautifully, at any rate."

The humor didn't help the tense atmosphere that had been slowly building since Jareth's comment. If anything, the mood only got worse. For the next while, the two sat quietly and ate their oatmeal.

When they were finished, Sarah took the dishes and dropped them in the sink, where Jareth realized they would probably remain until someone other then her decided to clean.

This was starting to be too much for the Goblin King. He was from a world where Goblin's were the most intelligent creatures, save himself. The only atmosphere he was used to was dirty. Tense situations were not his forte. They weren't even in his dictionary, back at home. So his mind raced on ways to relieve the tension. Unfortunately, none of them had any style, grace, or poise, and all felt so dorky that Jareth, as desperate as he was, could never bring himself to doing any of them. In fact-

"The kitchen feels strange, being this clean."

Jareth's thoughts, as well as the atmosphere, were put to a halt for a least the second time today. He glanced over at Sarah, who was touching an area of the counter that last night, had been covered in some sort of odd, brown coloured stain.

"Maybe if you kept it this way, you wouldn't have the feeling..? It's not very healthy ."

"Says the man who lives in the Goblin Kingdom," she retorted.

"Sarah, do you honestly think that my castle stays as _clean_ as it is on its own…? Were I to leave it alone, for even three days, my goblins would make everything in your kitchen, save maybe the fridge, look like it was part of a high class show home."

"…Well it's your own fault if the goblin's trash your house while you're here…"

Jareth nodded. "Yes, it is. I shouldn't have fallen asleep…"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Every hour I spend in your world is the equivalent of three or more in mine… at least a day has gone by since I last returned home…" It was true. By the time he got back to the kingdom, there would be enough of a mess in his castle that he would most likely be busy cleaning for days.

Sarah had sat back down at the table and was now holding Lancelot to her. "Then you really should be going home to check on things, shouldn't-wait." A new thought was plastered over her face, and she looked mildly horrified. "How long has it been for you since I wished Toby away?"

Jareth nearly choked. Where had _that_ come from? He regained his posture and stated, as indifferently as he could muster, "It has been nearly forty years."

Crackle.

It was back. Why was it every time he said _anything_ openly, the tension rose? Did Sarah really dislike him _that much_? Sarah was looking down at Lancelot, holding the stuffed bear tightly to her body

"I would like you to leave now." She told him calmly. "I will offer you my gratitude for caring for me while I saw sick, Goblin King, but I will also request that you never do it again."

Jareth felt his chest tighten. It throbbed with a dull pain as he realized he had been right in where this visit would eventually lead. He nodded silently, gazing down at the table. "If that is your wish, Sarah."

"The fact that you were willing to help me while I was sick does not change who you are. Do not think that just because you were helpful, I'm suddenly going to forgive everything you've done prior to this."

"I never expected it to." Jareth admitted. He looked up at her. "I told you before, all I wanted was to find out how you were doing…"

"well… The next time you want something tangible to think about me with, find some other means." Sarah looked down at Lancelot, still being held close to her own chest. There was a moment's hesitation, before she offered it to him. "Here… Take this."

Jareth stared at the ratty old bear oddly. "Sarah, isn't that your favorite stuffed animal..?" Now he was really confused. If she hated him, why was she offering him anything? Why had she made breakfast? Why did she even offer _some_ thanks?? Why was she offering her bear to him?? The questions only made his head spin and his heart ache.

"Just shut up. Allison's been giving me a hard time every time I'm seen with it anyway… Just take the stupid bear, and get out of my sight."

Jareth look the bear out of her hands gently, looking at her. He started to state his thanks, but she groaned the moment he opened his mouth.

"Ugh, I wish you'd just leave."

That was all he needed. Without another word, another breath, or even a blink, Jareth transported himself away. He simply returned to his home; to his castle. There was no flying through the air, enjoying the sensation, and there was no confusion over where he needed to be. He was just in Sarah's room one second, and climbing up the steps of his castle the next…

He walked through the castle, virtually ignoring all the goblins that were catastrophically greeting him. Apparently in his absence they had managed to follow his directions and patch up the hole in the wall they had made… well, that was good at least… All the time, he was carrying a small, falling apart teddy bear that would hardly last five minutes in his world.

Which was why there was only _one place_ it could be left.

-

Jareth returned to his tower. It was just the way he had left it, down to the last microorganism. As long as he were in this room, Lancelot would probably survive over a thousand years, so long as he remained Goblin King for that long.

He did not want to think of Sarah every time he came to the tower, especially not now that he still felt that she hadn't aged. At one side of the room was a large desk. Jareth stepped to it and pulled a small ornate box out from underneath it.

The chest was opened to find his most valued treasures; a pair of black gloves, an old faded blue hair ribbon, a set of half-used crayons, and two crystal rings. The bear was placed over these possessions, and the box was shut, shoved under the desk again with the intent to forget that it was even there.

Besides, Jareth was starting to feel tired again, and wished to return to his room to sleep. He had no idea why, but he was still unbelievably tired. His back and neck were still sore from sleeping on them wring.

And to make matters worse, he was starting to get a sore throat…

* * *

A/N: This ends Something Tangible. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Yes, the end of the chapter makes you sad. Don't worry, I can promise that when the sequel is written, Sarah's request doesn't last that long. Lawl.

If you remember, I was saying in chapter two how my three chapters had turned into five, or fifty? Well, instead of that, I'm stopping at six, and I am writing a sequel. If you are at all interested, tell me so that I know it's not a _complete_ waste of my time (Little note: The plot will be longer and the romance will be gradual, not fast paced and _not_ the only objective).

It will either be one long story, or several short ones like this. In that case, I may need to make it some sort of a series name, but I'll decide that later. For now, understand that the intent of the once-fluff is now an epic (well, maybe not epic, but still) story. Why does my brain always do this to me??

If no one's interested I'm going to stop writing for a bit, and put _all_ of my creative juices into Mirror Focus and another project that I want to do at some point (no spoilers. Ha ha)... So it all depends on what the readers say, but at some point this WILL be continued.

…ugh, from what I told you on what my sequels are like, and from the fact I didn't write any direct kissing, I've probably just lost half my readers… T.T


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